a poem a day for a year #165

by Amy Turn Sharp


I brought my old boom box out to my father's green fields
deep in the Southeastern Ohio countryside
grass thick under my feet
I listened to Tom Petty
loud
into the great wide open

this was just last month
I closed my eyes and tried to make it happen
make time rewind
my father young
my mother blonde
the world soft and slow
like some sort of magical fucking Disney movie
featuring a middle aged lady with nice tits
and a magic swirling silver cloud

all in a dream
all in a dream

I would see you again
and you
and you there
and I would trick myself 
into never going forward with  
this romantic rebellious life

I sang all the words to Kings Road
backward
like the devil
but nothing happened 
an old man with a straw hat 
went slowly past me on a tractor
on the crunchy gravel road
I turned around three times
looked to the hills for guidance


If it were 1990 I could walk down to your house
we would smoke j's
eat Brownie Bites
let the small square of worry fall to the floor
like clothing
like things you can only feel in the dark

I am still here
It's 2012
only birds in the sky
same problems
same mind that feels lost
like a broken old compass
discarded years back
by a bad boy scout